Polaris
by sendintheclowns
Summary: The angels are pushing Sam out. Lucifer is pulling Sam in. Dean just wants to hold onto his brother before it’s too late. Set post Lucifer Rising…might as well call it AU since that will happen with the season premier.
1. Chapter 1

Polaris

Summary: The angels are pushing Sam out. Lucifer is pulling Sam in. Dean just wants to hold onto his brother before it's too late. Set post Lucifer Rising…might as well call it AU since that will happen with the season premier.

A/N: This is Pay It Forward fic for the one, the only, Faye Dartmouth. I even personalized it for you, dear!

Beta: The very talented Gidgetgal9 – no story is complete without her.

Chapter One

Dean knew they had to get out, now, but Sam wasn't budging.

It had been bad enough busting into the sanctuary to find Sam on the ground and Ruby putting her paws all over him. Now the kid was standing there, weaving on his feet, dazed. He should have been running for his life.

Apparently Lucifer was about to make his long awaited debut and Dean needed to get Sam out of here. Now.

Brilliant white light bathed the chamber and Dean could feel the electricity building in the air. Dean's fingers were twisted in the soft cotton material of Sam's shirt and his little brother's did likewise in Dean's top. Only Dean was trying to haul Sam out of the room and Sam's feet were planted like he was intent on putting down roots.

Sam's voice, eerily flat, equally subdued, stated the obvious. "He's coming."

Enough of this shit. When one last tug heralded nothing from his brother except a blank look, Dean pried his brother's fingers away from his shirt. Sam's knees were locked as he fought to keep his balance during the increasing temblors shaking the floor and Dean opted to apply some playground style horseplay to control the situation. Dean stepped behind Sam, kicking his own leg against the back of Sam's so that those long legs buckled.

Before Sam could recover his balance, Dean whipped his left arm around his brother's neck. Sam's trachea was now nestled in the crook of his elbow. Dean really didn't want to do this to his own flesh and blood but he saw no other choice. He forced his left hand to grasp his own right biceps while he placed his right hand behind Sam's head. The rumbling of the room spurring him on, Dean snapped his elbows together with more force than was necessary, applying lateral pressure to Sam's neck on both sides.

After three seconds, Sam's legs completely folded, his head tipping forward over Dean's arm. The arteries feeding blood to his brother's brain had temporarily been stymied, temporarily being the key. Dean was banking on Sam's cooperation once he got his brother away from Lucifer.

Twisting Sam's pliant body around, Dean readied himself for the next maneuver. The only way he could manage to cart around 200 plus pounds of weight was in a fireman's carry. He grabbed Sam's right wrist, pulling the lax arm across Dean's shoulder. Dean then reached between Sam's legs, grasping the back of Sam's right thigh. Rising to his full height, Sam's body draped over his shoulders, left arm and leg left to flop haphazardly against his back which they did as Dean took off in a trot.

By all rights Sam would be waking up from his little snooze and Dean could only hope that his brother worked with him instead of against him. Although the way Sam had held Ruby while Dean had sunk the knife into her gut and turned it with satisfaction told him that perhaps the brothers were finally on the same page.

As Dean forced his legs into a parody of a run, staggering down the narrow hallway, he remembered the absolute fury he'd experienced at having been locked out of the room by Ruby. That fury had only been tempered by his fear of what was happening to his brother. And when he'd finally broken down the door to find Sam sprawled on the floor, Ruby's hands fluttering over him, he'd seen red. In that moment he hadn't cared if Sam never spoke to him again as he made it his single mission to snuff out the blight that was Ruby. When Sam had actively helped Dean against the demon bitch, he'd felt hope for the first time since Castiel had broken him out of his green room.

A light flared behind him, superheated to blue, abruptly illuminating the dark passage. Pain flared in Dean's head at the brightness and he was relieved Sam wasn't awake for this – his brother didn't need a migraine on top of everything else. Although Sam should have come to after ten seconds and it had now been at least a minute. If that crazy bitch had harmed Sam, Dean would…he realized there wasn't anything he could do. All the main demonic players except for Lucifer seemed to be gone. There wasn't anything Dean could do except try to take care of his brother while figuring out what to do about apocalypse.

The weight across his shoulders stiffened. "Sam, hey, relax. We're almost outside and I'll put you down then. Just trust me."

Amazingly Sam did ask he asked, his body relaxing so that Dean didn't have to strain as hard. And his breaths were puffing in and out like a steam engine, his endurance taxed by the events of the day as well as the burden he was carrying.

Burden. Sam had seemed like a burden this year, contrary and unyielding in his quest to slay Lilith. Now that Sam had managed that feat, to devastating consequences, Dean didn't know what to expect from his brother. But a little cooperation would go a long way and this was a start.

As the building shimmied and shook, Dean hit the doors without pause, bursting into the cool spring air. He wanted to double over and catch his breath but first he needed to set Sam down. "Gonna put you down now, Sammy."

The use of his brother's nickname took him by surprise almost as much as it did Sam, his brother's mouth forming an 'o' as Dean set his feet on the ground, steadying him.

Dean looked around the parking lot and his eyes landed on the lone vehicle in the area. It was an orange Shelby Charger and Dean grabbed Sam's biceps, tugging him toward it. Sam still sported a dazed look but he was steady on his feet and let himself be dragged toward the car.

Dean grabbed at the passenger side door handle and when it opened, he attempted to guide Sam in to the car. When heels dug in to the pavement, impeding progress, Dean resorted to physically manhandling Sam into the passenger seat. He might have succeeded except for the roof of the car; Dean wasn't able to push Sam's head down for clearance and it bounced painfully off the top of the car. His brother tumbled back into Dean's arms, stunned.

"We do not have time for this, Dean. The Morningstar calls to your brother. We must go now."

Heart thumping painfully in his chest, Dean turned to find Castiel standing there in his trademark beige trench coat, face set in stoic lines. "Shit, Cas, I wish you wouldn't do that."

He had been worried about the angel, left to face the archangel's wrath, but Dean's first priority was Sam.

His brother's weight pressed heavily against Dean's side and he glanced at his brother. Sam's eyes widened comically when he saw the angel. The look of surprise faded to one of confusion and he cocked his head, looking over Castiel's shoulder.

The parking lot began to quake as light shot out of the monastery windows and Dean found it hard to maintain his balance. Cas reached out and Dean expected him to touch his shoulder and transport them away from the scene but instead the dark-haired angel pressed his index finger into Sam's forehead. His brother's weight dropped like a stone and Dean's back groaned as he frantically tried to compensate for the additional force dragging him toward the ground.

Before he could confront the angel, Castiel was pressing his palm into Dean's cheek and the sensation of sudden, violent movement punched through his body. When he blinked his eyes to clear them, Dean found himself in Bobby's living room. The nausea swirling in the pit of his stomach quickly calmed as his eyes fed the news to his brain that he was once again stationary.

Adrenaline shot through his body. Sam was no longer nestled against his side.

Castiel stood in the middle of the room, legs apart to absorb the additional heaviness that was Sam in his arms. The angel cradled his brother, right arm hooked under knees and left braced around the back. Sam's long limbs trailed toward the ground, his head tipped back over a trench coat covered forearm. It looked incongruous – his strapping brother in the arms of the smaller framed one-time CPA. It also made Sam appear vulnerable and for that reason only Dean's nostrils flared in time with his temper. "Put him down. Don't you touch him."

The angel appeared unfazed, his gaze unblinking, face bland. But he did Dean's bidding without argument, carrying Sam to the couch and lowering him to the surface. Castiel wasn't rough but he also didn't handle his baby brother with care – Sam's arms and legs twisted and flopped into a position that could in no way be construed as comfortable.

Dean pushed the angel to the side as he moved to Sam's side. Once he pushed the lank hair back from Sam's face, Dean could see his brother's features pulled taut, strain and pain written all over his face. Turning his head, Dean glared at the angel. "What the hell did you do to Sam?"

Castiel's face remained impassive, his hands bunching at his sides the only sign that he was in distress. "The fallen one can sense your brother. If Sam is unconscious then he cannot be traced."

His brother's breathing pattern was irregular at best but at least he was breathing. The tightness in his limbs and face indicated a deep discomfort and it was more than Dean could take. Sam had been screwed with by demons and played by angels – it was way past time to put an end to that shit. "Wake him up. Now."

A hand clutched him gently through this shirt. "Dean, you must listen. We do not have much time. Lucifer will find Sam, and you, if I do not take care of this problem."

"Problem?! Sam is not a problem. And you are not taking care of him, whatever that means." Dean turned his attention back to his brother. He picked up one of Sam's hands and found it clammy and cool. He shifted his grip to touch Sam's pulse and his eyes found the clock on the mantle – his brother's pulse was weak but rapid. Not good.

Thumbing back an eyelid, Dean found a dilated pupil staring back at him, lackluster and glazed.

Sam was in shock.

Standing up, Dean retrieved the plaid blanket bunched on the back of Bobby's couch and straightened it out, smoothing it over Sam's still form. "I thought I told you to wake him up."

Dean found himself whirled around, staring eye to eye with intense blue eyes. "You are not thinking clearly, Dean. We cannot allow you to fall into Lucifer's hands. I can fix the problem. I just need to make an adjustment to Sam's frontal lobe and the fallen one will not be able to communicate with him."

Fallen one. Frontal lobe. Dean's head was reeling. He needed time to figure this out. "You are not doing anything to my brother. Can't you do something with those freaky blood symbols of yours? Make it seem like we've disappeared? You're an angel, for God's sake. You must be able to do something that doesn't involve maiming my brother."

The angel pursed his lips together, nodding. "As you wish. I will go outside and do that now. But when I return, we need to leave here." Castiel's eyes strayed over Sam's body and his eyes appeared to change colors for a moment, blue to gray, and then returned to normal; Dean doubted for a moment that he'd really seen the angel's eyes change but then Sam was groaning, hands lifting to his head. Something had happened.

When Dean shifted his attention back to Castiel, the angel was already gone.

The door to the basement banged and Bobby flew into the living room, his baseball cap eschew. "Dean?! What happened?!" Did you find your…"

Bobby's words trailed off as he caught sight of the young man sprawled on his couch. The older hunter brushed by him and crouched down next to Sam in the place he'd just occupied. The concern Bobby displayed was amazing considering the last time he'd seen Sam, the younger man had laid him out with the butt of a rifle. "Hey, Sam, just take it easy. Here, let me help you up."

Their host eased Sam to a sitting position, watching his face to see how he took the change in altitude. "Dean, there's a bottle of whiskey on the kitchen table…bring it here, would ya?"

"I don't think Sam should have any alcohol at the moment," Dean answered although he was moving for the kitchen table. The last time he'd been in this house, Bobby had called him on his unrealistic view of family and pretty much shamed him into going after Sam. Never mind that the freakin' angels had snapped him up before he could actually find his brother. But Dean wasn't in any rush to oppose the older hunter…his tongue was as sharp as his knife collection.

Bobby rolled his eyes as Dean handed him the bottle. "The boy's in shock. A good belt of whiskey will warm him up. And I could use one, too. Something tells me I'm not going to like what you two knuckleheads have to tell me about what's going on out there."

Exhaustion threatened to topple Dean from his feet but he began to pace the small surface of Bobby's living room floor. He was too keyed up to stop moving and there was a chance that if he did that, he'd fall asleep. The damn apocalypse was kicking off and he couldn't afford to sleep at the moment.

When he thought of the apocalypse, his eyes darted to Sam, slumped against the back of the couch. Dean couldn't begin to describe the guilt he felt over breaking the first seal; Sam had broken the last one and fallen for a demon's lies along the way…Sam had pretty much found a way to top Dean's own achievements.

Sure, Dean had fallen for the line fed to him by the angels but that wasn't even close to being in the same league as Sam listening to Ruby.

The same anger that had swirled through him ever since he was yanked out of hell to find his brother using his powers and lying surged through him again. But one look at Sam's pale face and slumped posture told Dean more effectively than words could just how sorry his brother was about everything.

They had a long road ahead of them but at least they were back together again and fighting on the same team.

If only Sam didn't look so wrung out. Dean's first priority was making sure his brother was all in one piece.

-0-

Nausea settled in the pit of Sam's stomach along with a burning sensation. Dizziness made his head reel but at least he was awake. He didn't remember the ride from Baltimore to South Dakota and he was seriously freaked out to find himself at Bobby's house, the older hunter leaning over him and speaking kindly to him. His brother peered at him from over Bobby's shoulder and Sam couldn't blame him for keeping his distance; Sam had managed to bring about the apocalypse in his single-minded desire to kill Lilith. Ending her existence would ensure Dean's safety and that had been enough. Everyone else Sam had ever loved was dead at the hands of Azazel and selling his own soul to keep his brother safe, after everything Dean had given up for him, had seemed a fair price.

Where had he gone wrong? Not that it mattered now. He'd made it possible for the Bringer of Light to come back to earth. Why then did he get the feeling that only darkness would reign?

"Here, just a touch of this will cure what ails ya," Bobby's voice interrupted his depressing thoughts. Liquid burned down his throat and when it hit the already present burn in Sam's stomach, he curled over, clutching at his abdomen.

His eyes might have teared and he knew he coughed but by the time he'd wrestled the pain into submission, Bobby and Dean were having heated words over his head.

A warm hand on his back belied the hostility in the voice next to his ear. Bobby s voice, loud and strident. "I think he needs a hospital. Who knows what that asshole angel did to his brain. And he's still shocky. It ain't right. I think the boy needs more help than we can give him. We almost lost him last time. Are you willing to risk it?"

Sam didn't want to know what Dean thought, nor did he want to go to a hospital. His brother probably wanted him to just disappear and what could the medical community do for him now that he was more demon than human? "No, please…no hospital…I don't…"

He was going to say 'deserve it' but the blood in his temples was pounding, filtering out the voices, and his vision grayed out along the edges. He didn't want to pass out. There was nothing wrong with him, at least physically. Mentally was a different story. He'd brought Lucifer back and the magnitude of his mistake stopped him in his tracks – he couldn't think or move.

Sure hands shifted him back to a supine position and after a while the throbbing in his head eased. He caught bits and phrases of the discussion swirling around him.

"…my brother, you think I don't want what's best for him?"

"…the detox thing again, how are we gonna…and you disappearing every time an angel crooks its finger…"

"…won't leave him, not this time. We're stronger together."

His brother almost sounded like he meant it. But maybe Sam was already going through withdrawal, hallucinating. He couldn't trust his senses anymore. Clasping his hands over his ears, he willed the voices to stop.

At last blissful silence greeted him. His eyes blinked open and it took a moment for them to adjust to the darkness. He was curled on his side, still on the lumpy couch. The dim light the fireplace was giving off shone down on his brother who was sprawled on the floor facing him, a blanket crumpled next to him.

Sam jumped as his eyes panned across the room to find Castiel standing by the fireplace. His brother's angel motioned him over and he gingerly rolled to his feet, picking his way across the floor as not to step on Dean.

Wondering if the angel was going to smite him and thinking that he deserved it, Sam approached slowly and stopped when he was a couple of feet away from the fireplace. The flames burned strongly in the hearth but a chill slithered down Sam's spine.

Castiel nodded gravely. "Hello, Samuel."

Sam merely inclined his head in acknowledgment; he knew the angel didn't want to exchange pleasantries with him.

The angel's eyes darted over to the relaxed man on the floor and Sam stepped to the side to block his view; Dean might be on good terms with Castiel but Sam's trust in everyone and everything had been shaken and he wasn't about to let anything hurt his brother. The dark-haired angel smiled condescendingly at Sam, his white teeth glowing in the dim light. "I am sworn to protect your brother. I will not harm him."

He might not harm Dean but it was implied that he might hurt Sam. After all, Sam consorted with demons and was himself more demon than man. He couldn't blame the angel and wistfully thought an end to his existence might not be a bad thing. However, Dean wouldn't see it that way – Sam had been entrusted into his care at too young of an age and although he'd turned into a burden, he knew Dean watching out for him was ingrained in his brother and Dean wouldn't cope well if something happened to Sam.

Although the voicemail Dean had left for Sam about being a blood sucking vampire gave him pause. Dean showing up at the monastery and getting him out had to mean something.

Castiel stared unblinkingly at him and Sam was unnerved. Running a hand impatiently through his hair, he whispered, "Fine, you won't harm him. What did you want to tell me?"

A hand reached for his arm and Sam flinched away. The monotone voice with precise pronunciation that he associated with the angels explained things patiently. "You do not have to be quiet; your brother cannot hear you."

Fear poured through Sam's body, causing his heart to pound painfully in his chest. If the angel had done anything to his brother…he turned his head and saw not only that Dean was resting peacefully on the floor, but Sam himself was still lying on the couch.

If he hadn't already brought about the resurrection of Lucifer, Sam would probably be totally freaked out at seeing himself asleep across the room while he talked to an angel. Pretty much everything paled in comparison to bringing back Lucifer so he took this in stride. "What do you want?"

Sam had wanted his voice to be forceful and strong but it was pathetic and weak. He was so very tired of his mistakes and the demons and angels using them as pawns and what his life had become…he wanted nothing more than to sink into oblivion, let everything disappear.

But there was Dean. He couldn't do that to his brother.

"You have already done your part," Sam's head bowed at the angel's words, guilt weighing him down, "so you must not stand in the way of your brother. I believe Dean will destroy Lucifer but he does not need distractions."

Distractions. Yes, Sam supposed he'd been a distraction. Using his powers, drinking demon blood…definitely distractions. He didn't plan on holding Dean back but then again he hadn't planned on bringing about the apocalypse so his judgment couldn't be trusted.

For the first time since he'd joined Castiel, he sensed something other than judgment from the being. Lifting his head he noted a certain glint in those blue eyes and in the tilt of his head.

Pity.

Castiel pitied Sam. The emptiness burning within him had to be ignored; he didn't have time for it, not right now. Dean needed him to be strong.

Again the being reached out for his arm and Sam automatically flinched away. Maybe now that his soul was truly damned, he couldn't abide the touch of heavenly creatures.

He closed his eyes, disgust at himself blocking everything else out. Except that voice. Flat and pedantic, discordant to his ears. "There are challenges ahead of you, Sam, but you must face them alone."

Sam blinked and found himself back on the couch, Castiel no longer in the room.

Weird.

Exhaustion swept through him, his fingers and toes tingling with numbness.

His eyes refused to remain open and he gave up that fight. Any fight was beyond him at the moment. He might not want the angels calling the shots for him but he wasn't sure if he had the strength to do anything about it.

But for his brother, he would try.

-0-

Sam leaned against the wall outside the kitchen to catch his balance. The symptoms of withdrawal had taken longer to arrive than he had thought they would – it had been over a week since he'd had anything – but they were setting in with a vengeance.

Blurred vision, headache and dizziness were the aggravating ones but when he'd glimpsed himself in the mirror after he'd gotten out of the shower, he couldn't miss the swelling in his face.

He wished Dean didn't have to see him like this. Sam knew his current condition bothered his brother. After all it was another reminder of just how low Sam had sunk.

Closing his eyes, he waited for the dizziness to pass. As the pounding in his ears let up, he became aware of the voices in the kitchen. Loud voices.

"No, absolutely not. I don't care where you got it from. Sam is not drinking any of that _stuff_." Dean growled his words and it made the hair on the back of Sam's neck stand up.

"You saw what happened last time, boy. Do ya really want to put him through that again? I did some research and I don't think cold turkey is the way to go. Maybe tapering him off of it would work, though." Bobby ignored Dean's temper, his tone softer but gruff.

Confusion was another sign of withdrawal and Sam had to blame his slowness on something and that would do. They were talking about him and how to treat his withdrawal.

Nausea kicked in with the dizziness and he reeled against the wall. If not for the vehemence of Dean's words, Sam might have missed what he said next. "Hell, no, Bobby. Sam is not touching that demon blood. I remember what happened last time and I don't want him to die, but…no, that's not an option. End of story."

Sam had no intentions of touching demon blood again but knowing that his brother thought he might die without it and seemed to have made peace with that fact caused a stabbing sensation in his chest. If Dean was okay with him dying then there wasn't anything keeping him alive.

He had nothing left in his stomach but liquid burned up his esophagus, in a hurry to exit his mouth. Sam clapped his hand over his mouth as though that would somehow quell the overwhelming urge to hurl and he staggered along the wall, back toward the bathroom. A lamp jumped out at him and he swerved to miss it but not enough, sending it crashing to the floor.

"Hey, Sammy, I got you. Just relax, don't fight it." A soft voice in his ear and an arm around his waist. Dean.

One minute Dean wanted him dead and the next he was being nice to him. Sam's head spun from the contradiction.

Down on one knee, head bent as he strove to keep from vomiting, Sam wondered if maybe this was all a hallucination. Maybe he needed to get to the panic room. He didn't want to hurt Dean or Bobby. They should lock him up.

"No, we're not locking you up. Come on, big guy, let's get you off the floor and on to the couch." Bobby was pulling him up, or maybe it was Dean. Sam kept his eyes clamped shut since that helped with the dizziness.

Movement finally ceased and Sam cracked his eyes open. Dean and Bobby stood over him, eyes filled with concern.

Or scorn.

It was so hard to tell. And Sam knew he deserved it. He wished they'd let him go downstairs – at least he'd be out of the way.

"You're not going anywhere. I want you where I can keep an eye on you." Sam flinched at Dean's words. He didn't deserve his brother's trust, he knew it. He couldn't undo the damage.

Something wiped across Sam's forehead, making him flinch again. His head was hot and it hurt but he deserved it.

Dean and Bobby were talking over him, as though he wasn't even in the room.

Maybe he wasn't.

"Kid's got a fever. I think we need to bring it down." Only Bobby would call him a kid. He didn't know why the older man was still nice to him. Didn't he realize this was all Sam's fault?

"I'm gonna get another blanket. He's shivering so hard, his teeth are gonna rattle out of his head." At least Dean didn't call him a monster. Or a blood sucker. Which he was.

His chest hurt. It was getting hard to breathe.

Something bitter was put in his mouth and a glass was held up to his lips.

Blood. He smelled blood. He refused to drink it. He was done with that. Never should have done it. He made the choice, though. He made all of the right choices, choices that weren't right but wrong.

No more blood.

He burrowed into the cushion at his side, jaws grinding down, teeth protesting.

No more.

TBC

A/N 2: The story is complete and if the site cooperates, I'll post the remaining three parts every other day. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Polaris

Summary: The angels are pushing Sam out. Lucifer is pulling Sam in. Dean just wants to hold onto his brother before it's too late. Set post Lucifer Rising…might as well call it AU since that will happen with the season premier.

A/N: Thank you so much for the feedback! I'm getting the sense that we're all ready for the new season ;-)

Beta: Gidgetgal9 and Bayre…thank you ladies!

Chapter Two

A crash from the living room had Dean on the run. Sam had been in the shower and that's when Bobby had ambushed him with the detox plan. He would take any excuse to get out of the conversation but he knew the crash didn't bode well.

Sure enough he found Sam staggering, face flushed, hand slapped savagely across his mouth. "Hey, Sammy, I got you. Just relax, don't fight it." There were pieces of bulb ground into the rug and he didn't want his brother, barefoot, stepping in it. Sam had enough problems without adding cut up feet to the list.

His brother, ever contrary, tensed instead of relaxing. He dropped to one knee, narrowly missing the wreckage of the lamp.

Sam was talking quietly, voice barely a whisper. "Panic room…don't want to hurt Dean and Bobby…lock me up…"

Great. Looked like the hallucinations were starting to set in. There was no way they would do that to Sam. Not this time.

Bobby was at Sam's elbow, hands and voice gentle. "No, we're not locking you up. Come on, big guy, let's get you off the floor and on to the couch."

Dean didn't know what they would do without Bobby's help. Although the demon blood idea was just not happening. But Bobby had given them a place to stay, given them access to his library, and had been the soul of patience with his brother.

Sam was falling apart, a nervous wreck, and being around Dean sometimes made it worse. But Bobby…he always knew what to say to his brother to talk him down. Dean was envious but at the same time he knew he and Sam had a lot to work out between them. The whole apocalypse and angels and demons thing was making it hard to find the time.

Dean took one side and Bobby the other and soon they were lowering his shaking sibling to the couch. Sam listed to the side and Dean pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping Sam's torso with it. It pinned his brother's arms down but that didn't seem like a bad thing – if Sam was starting to see things, he might inadvertently take a swing.

Eyes scrunched up tight, face pale except for along Sam's high cheekbones which burned bright red, Dean saw his brother was in a bad way. He brushed the back of his hand under Sam's shower damp bangs and dry heat met his touch. Sam flinched away and Dean hardened himself against the guilt and hurt he experienced. This wasn't about him and his feelings…as a wise man once said to him, family wasn't there to bake him an apple pie, family was there to make him miserable.

Sam and Dean had that down pat.

"Kid's got a fever. I think we need to bring it down." Bobby was the voice of reason. Yes, if they didn't want the fever to scramble Sam's brains, they needed to lower his temperature.

When Sam quaked so hard the couch moved, Dean moved toward the closet. "I'm gonna get another blanket. He's shivering so hard, his teeth are gonna rattle out of his head."

Glazed eyes followed his movements but Sam didn't try to get up. He passively sat there. It was so unlike his brother. The old version of his brother. Sam was definitely different now. Unsure of himself.

The older hunter returned from the kitchen with aspirin and a glass of water. Dean set the comforter he found on the closet shelf next to Sam, concerned first with getting the fever reducer into his brother.

"Open your mouth." Sam ignored him. Large eyes glided around the room, stopping and starting with agitation. Dean pulled Sam's lower lip out and took the tablets from Bobby's hand, dropping them into Sam's mouth.

His brother made a face but didn't pull away. Silently Bobby handed Dean the glass of water. Cupping the back of Sam's hot neck, Dean placed the glass to Sam's chapped lips.

Sam's head moved this time, darting away, but Dean kept the glass to his mouth. Dry swallowing aspirin was a bitch.

Jaws abruptly clamped down without warning, teeth snapping against glass.

An audible crunch was heard and Dean frantically pulled the glass back but the damage had been done – Sam's teeth were blood stained, droplets coating his lips.

"No…no more…" Sam jerked away, leaning into the couch arm.

Teeth grinding, eyes rolling.

"Shit, he's seizing!"

Working as a team, Bobby and Dean lifted Sam off the couch and placed him on the floor. Head arched back, neck corded with strain, they fought to keep Sam from hurting himself.

Dean could only hang on.

-0-

Sam didn't know which way was up and which was down. His head spun so bad he couldn't fix his orientation. Occasionally he wondered why his knees hurt but that was a fleeting discomfort when stacked up against the rest of what was going on.

He was losing his mind, he was sure of it.

Jessica was holding his hand, murmuring words of encouragement. Like she did when he had a migraine. When he cracked his eyes open, he was greeted with the long, rippling blond waves and bright blue eyes.

At least until Jess's stomach split open, blood dripping on to the floor. Flames ignited the ceiling and the pungent odor of burnt skin and hair filled Sam's nostrils.

_Why, Sam? You said you loved me. Why?_

Sam tried to get away, bumbling on hands and knees, but something always stopped him.

Something gently touched his face and Sam turned, afraid of what he would find.

Madison was crouched down next to him, her long dark hair framing her intelligent face, her finger stroking down the side of his face. Tears filled her large brown eyes, her compassionate countenance morphing into accusing anger.

_If I'm a monster, what does that make you, Sam? I took responsibility for my actions…when are you going to do the same? You should be dead._

_Monster._

_Die._

Incissors longated to sharp points and a strong hand fisted in Sam's hair. Heaving to the side, out of the grip, Sam scooted away.

Something strong rammed the top of his head and lights burst across his vision.

He wanted to get away but this was his penance. He deserved this.

There was nothing he could do except take his punishment. Head bowed down, he waited.

_You're a monster._

_If you leave, don't bother to come back._

_Dead things should stay dead._

_You made the right choice every time._

_Blood on his hands. Blood in his mouth._

_Blood._

Sam's mouth gaped open, sobs pulled deep from within.

-0-

Strangled, choked sobs filled the small room.

Bobby had suggested they pen Sam up in the kitchen and although Dean wanted to protest the idea, it made sense. The tile in there was easy to clean up and Sam kept either spitting up his water or spilling it. Not to mention the drool and snot and tears. The kid had to be dehydrated but every time they tried to get him to drink, he flipped out.

Dean stepped over the gate, a holdover from one of Bobby's dogs, and quietly approached his brother. Startling him made his heart beat faster and his breathing accelerate – dual strains his body couldn't take right now. Sam had endured three seizures and although those had passed, his brother only seemed negligibly better.

His body might be holding up but Dean didn't hold out much hope for his mind.

Sam had crawled into the corner and although the rabbit-in-the-snare noises had died down, his brother was now banging his head repeatedly into the wall.

The first time Sam had gone through forced detox, Dean had righteous anger on his side. Although it wasn't easy to listen to Sam's suffering, a part of him thought his brother deserved it.

This time was different. Through the little snatches and phrases that tumbled out of his delirious brother's mouth, Dean had a better picture of what had happened and just what it had cost Sam.

None of it was pretty.

Now this…watching Sam crawl around, insensible, was breaking his heart. Even Bobby, hardened vet that he was, had a hard time with Sam's withdrawal.

The idea of giving Sam demon blood, once so repulsive, now had merit. Anything to give Sam some relief. But if his brother wouldn't take water from him, there was no way he'd take blood.

What a mess. They'd gotten Sam into a pair of his sleep pants and a t-shirt after his last seizure when he was dazed and compliant but both were ripped and torn now. Crawling and rolling around the floor would do that. The exposed skin of his brother's face, arms and feet were bruised and scratched and the covered skin was probably no better.

Sam's head continued to bang…bang…bang…

Dean crouched down and put a hand on Sam's shoulder. His brother ceased the incessant banging and folded up tight, arms crossed over his head, soundless sobs wracking his body.

"Sam, buddy, it's me. Dean. Why don't you come out here and sit with me?" Dean's hand slipped from shoulder to neck and massaged the rigid muscles there.

His brother ignored all contact, all conversation, instead lost in his thoughts.

Large, bloodshot eyes peered at Dean through sweat-matted bangs. This was something new.

Encouraged, Dean gentled his voice even more. "That's it, Sam. You're safe. We're at Bobby's. Why don't you sit next to me here on the floor?"

Those large eyes were blank with exhaustion and maybe insanity but Sam didn't look away, didn't pull away. Instead he allowed Dean to tug him away from the corner, curl him into Dean's side.

Sitting back, Dean let his back rest against a cabinet, his legs relaxing in front of him. His body was sore from chasing after Sam and it was a mystery to him how Sam's muscles could even hold him up. Hour upon hour of crawling on the floor…someone Sam's size wasn't meant for that activity.

His brother mimicked his position, long legs sprawled out in front of him, back slumped against the hard wood surface. Dean threaded an arm around Sam's shoulder and pulled him against his side, simultaneously propping him up and assessing his condition.

Sam's pulse jumped at his throat and his eyeballs rolled in his head, empty and vacant, as he looked around. The effort was too much and finally Sam lowered his head, his weight falling against Dean's side.

Dean steadied his brother, his finger finding Sam's wrist, counting. Too fast.

He was going to lose Sam.

Everyone else had abandoned him… he couldn't let Sam leave him, too.

Fighting to keep the tears at bay, Dean let his hand brush back the soft, limp hair covering his brother's face.

Broken.

Even if Sam lived through this, would he ever really recover?

Moisture seeped from the corner of Dean's own red eyes, snaking down his face. Falling on to his brother.

Weak fingers twisted in the soft cotton of his t-shirt. Sam had turned, left cheek against Dean's shoulder, shivers twitching lightly through is body. "Sorry…De'n…promise…be good…"

Slurred whisper, words and voice of a three-year-old Sammy, caressed Dean's ear. He settled Sam more fully in his arms, cradling his torso against his chest. "Shhh…it's okay, Sammy. Close your eyes and sleep. I'll watch out for you."

Dean rubbed his hand along Sam's exposed arm from shoulder to wrist. It was a wonder the kid didn't snap like an old rubberband.

Sam curled into him, full of trust.

His brother's body was so cold in his arms.

This wasn't Cold Oaks, though.

And Dean didn't need to make a deal in order to bring back his sibling.

He just needed to take care of his baby brother.

Setting aside the macho posturing, Dean did what came naturally and hugged his brother close.

-0-

Something stung the back of his arm and Sam clawed his way toward consciousness, not sure if he wanted to open his eyes.

He was more upright than flat but he nestled against something warm.

No screams or smells of burning flesh greeted his senses.

A soft noise – lub-dub, lub-dub – sounded in his ear.

For the first time in a long time, maybe since he was a child, he felt safe.

A warm hand slid through his hair and rested on the nape of his neck. Sam forced his eyes open, afraid that action would shatter his peace. But he needed to know…was this real?

He squinted his eyes, forcing back the blurriness. Blue cotton filled his sight. Tipping his head up, Sam's forehead scraped against the bristle of new beard.

_Where am I?_

Arms hauled him closer, insistently settling him against the broad chest. He knew that smell. Leather, gun powder, Old Spice.

Home.

-0-

Since getting pills into Sam wasn't working, Bobby had gotten his hands on some shots that might help with the withdrawal. It was hard to say since, as Bobby had so eloquently put it last time, no one had written a manual on demon blood detox. But this benzodiazepine stuff was supposed to help with the seizures.

Dean had thought they'd gotten past that, thought maybe his brother was finally getting better, and then the seizures had started again.

Watching Sam's limbs jerk and spasm involuntarily, over and over and over again, had thrown Dean into a panic. He held his brother down when the attacks hit, turning him on his side so that his breathing wasn't obstructed. When the seizures passed, he'd pull Sam back into his arms. It helped ease Sam's labored breathing and Dean felt better having him close.

Bobby dispensed of the alcohol wipe across Sam's biceps since the threat of infection at this point was nothing compared to the problems that came with the seizures. His brother didn't even acknowledge the prick of the needle as Bobby pushed in what they hoped would be the magic bullet in easing Sam's condition.

Little by little, Sam's harsh breathing settled down and his muscles relaxed.

Dean had lost track of the time but after a while, Sam rubbed his cheek against where it rested – nuzzling Dean's chest. It tickled but he forced himself to relax; he didn't want to do anything to spook Sam if he was waking up.

Stroking his fingers through Sam's disheveled hair, Dean marveled at his brother's strength. He was convinced someone else whose body was withstanding this kind of punishment would have given up by now.

Sam tipped his head up and bumped Dean's stubbled chin.

He was sure they looked a picture, what with Sam sprawled across Dean's lap. His brother's torso was turned on an odd angle, resting against Dean's chest. But compared to the seizures, the twisted pretzel position probably didn't even register as discomfort.

Shifting his hold, Dean settled his brother more firmly against his chest. Resting his cheek against the top of Sam's head, Dean exhaled a deep sigh.

At least Sam wasn't fighting to get away from him. Holding him like this brought back memories of their childhood.

Dean's priority had always been taking care of his baby brother. Way back when he was a kid, and even when he and Sam started hunting together again a couple of years ago, he always felt good about himself when looking out for Sam – it was his _thing,_ the job he did best. When had he lost sight of that?

The angels and Armageddon and everything else would have to wait a while. Number one, with a bullet, was seeing to Sam.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Polaris

Summary: The angels are pushing Sam out. Lucifer is pulling Sam in. Dean just wants to hold onto his brother before it's too late. Set post Lucifer Rising…might as well call it AU since that will happen with the season premier.

A/N: Please see Chapter One. And thanks for reading and reviewing…I will respond if ffnet plays nice!

Beta: Gidgetgal9 and Bayre…thank you ladies!

Chapter Three

More than four weeks had passed since Dean had taken off to deal with the mess Sam had made and his brother's absence weighed more on Sam than the physical remnants of his sickness.

Ruby had claimed that the demon blood hadn't poisoned him but that, as well as most of what she'd told him, had been a lie.

He'd read up on cravings and withdrawal and expected something – a clawing, tearing, screaming need for blood – but that had never materialized. Instead he'd been left with kidneys that didn't want to function. Something about foreign bodies in his bloodstream clogging up the works. Demon blood definitely fit the bill.

Sam didn't want to share that bit of news with Dean but he'd vowed to himself that he'd tell his brother the truth from now on. The doctor said until his readings were abnormal for three months, he wouldn't be classified as in kidney failure. He had some small amount of hope that his body would pull out of this. He was, after all, one of the special children with all sorts of physical upgrades.

The weekly trips to the hospital for dialysis were something Sam tried to put out of his mind. They were just a little inconvenience. Dean being gone was like a huge hole in his life.

He cringed when he thought of what he'd put Dean and Bobby through, the horror of his detox. Especially Dean. He could have sworn before that his brother was disgusted with him – his choices, his behavior, his being alive. But now Dean treated him like he had when they were kids.

Like Sam was someone special. Like he mattered.

Sam's own self esteem had been knocked off its axis and if the guns and knives hadn't been secured, there were times when Sam knew he'd succumb to the temptation to end his existence. Before he left, his brother seemed to sense when that mood was upon Sam and he stayed close. He did things like encourage him to have something to eat and remember to drink plenty of fluids. Even ran a bath for him – said it helped with withdrawal, according to the internet.

When Castiel had come a-calling over a month ago, Sam tried not to resent him. Dean was important to the resistance. Dean was the resistance. It had been foretold that his big brother would slay Lucifer.

So Sam had stood back and watched as the warrior angel, clad in a trench coat, whisked his brother away. Little did Sam know that his brother would be gone so long.

A soft whoosh filled his ears and Sam looked up from the computer to find Dean and Castiel standing in the middle of the living room, the angel's hand on Dean's shoulder.

His brother said some choice words that made Sam smile and when he blinked, the angel was gone.

The smile slid from Sam's face as Dean tottered on his feet, fighting to keep his balance. Rushing forward to steady his brother, he could see dark smudges on the left side of his brother's face. Dean's usually lively green eyes were dulled with pain and more than a little out of focus. Exhaustion? Concussion?

"Dean, you okay?" Dean reacted to Sam's voice, turning toward him, grabbing on to his shoulders like a lifeline.

Bobby burst into the living room, a softly bitten out, "Shit,' muttered as he made for Dean's side. "Let's find you somewhere to land before you face plant. Someone smack you in the head, boy?"

Sam followed Bobby's lead, taking Dean by the arm and guiding him to the couch. Bobby's couch had seen a lot of use since the brothers had started bunking with the seasoned hunter and Sam for one was grateful – it sure beat the Impala for comfort. Not that he'd disparage Dean's baby out loud.

His brother allowed himself to be manhandled, which told Sam far more than words could of how out of it he was. Dean submitted to Bobby's head injury exam, shaking the older man off when the hunter proclaimed, "No sign of damage…course you'd need a brain in order to suffer the effects of a concussion."

He'd always envied Bobby and Dean their easy banter and comfortable relationship and that hadn't changed between them. Since they'd shown up at Bobby's this last time, the hunter treated Sam like he was fragile, damaged goods, and didn't ask anything of him. However, that was better than being ignored altogether and was more than Sam thought he deserved.

Lilith might be dead but Lucifer wasn't. That was all on Sam.

Dean chose that moment to exercise his right to speech. "Little love tap, Castiel said I'm fine. Just a little tired. Freakin' angels kept me running around. Useless pieces of…hey, Sammy, how are you doing? I only thought I'd be gone for a day. Told Castiel that's what I wanted. How long was I gone?"

Traveling with the angels screwed with the passage of time, much like Dean's trip to hell, and it didn't surprise Sam that his brother didn't realize he'd been gone for over a month. It also didn't surprise Sam that the angel had misled his brother about how long he'd be gone. Angels and demons both seemed to have an affinity for deception.

Maneuvering his brother back until his legs bumped the couch, Sam pushed his index finger into the middle of Dean's chest and watched him tumble back. An overtired Dean could ramble for hours and the least Sam could do was make him comfortable.

Bobby was moving around the kitchen, probably getting Dean a painkiller and water. Sam busied himself by spreading a blanket over his brother. "Let's just say you were gone a while. Why don't you close your eyes and relax? We'll catch up later."

Dean snagged his arm, tugging him close. "How are you feeling? And don't give me that fine bullshit."

Sam's mouth quirked into a semblance of a smile. He'd missed Dean. Missed his fussing and brotherly clucking. Sam sunk on to the couch next to his brother as Bobby appeared with a glass and some pills. The older man cleared his throat, shooting Sam a guarded look. "How about you take these pills and you and your brother can talk later?"

The exhausted man next to him swallowed down the tablets with a gulp of water. Fingers captured his hand as Sam gathered himself to stand up. "You'll be here when I wake up, right? You're not gonna pull a disappearing act on me?"

Squeezing Dean's hand, Sam rose to his feet. He opened his mouth to assure his brother he wasn't going anywhere but he caught the troubled look on Bobby's face and the way his friend shook his head no. Closing his mouth and swallowing, Sam replied, "Just get some rest. I promise I'll be back and you can fill me in on what's going on in the trenches."

His brother grunted but let loose his hand.

Sam knew Dean wouldn't take his news well but there wasn't much he could do about it. He had to be at the hospital in thirty minutes for treatment and although he wanted to cancel – Dean needed him here and Sam owed him that much – he knew Bobby would kick his ass. Hell, Bobby had practically frothed at the mouth when Sam started having problems and insisted he go to the doctor. The fit Bobby had pitched when there was no way to get in touch with Dean would have been comical if not for the stress the older man was undergoing.

It was all Sam's fault. The consequences of his choices always bit other people in the ass.

He could only hope that his brother remained asleep until he got back.

-0-

Dean roused from his nap, snapping his mouth shut. He hated sleeping with his mouth open like that. It made his throat hurt and it gave Bobby and Sam fodder for teasing him.

Thinking of Sam, Dean sat up and looked around. He'd been pretty out of it when he'd arrived via angel express but he had a vague memory of his brother looking different. His hair was longer, brushing his shoulders and that's not something that happened in a week. The skin under Sam's eyes was shiny and bruised looking. He didn't expect Sam to be in the prime of health after all he'd gone through but the way the clothing hung on his brother told Dean they needed to have a serious talk – Sam had to take better care of himself.

Although if Dean had been here, where he'd wanted to be, he would have looked after his brother himself.

Sometimes it sucked being heaven's bitch. He'd vowed to serve them but a lot had changed since then and he wanted out. Let them find someone else to go toe-to-toe with Lucifer. Not that the onetime angel was causing much in the way of problems. It was quiet out there. Spooky quiet.

Pushing to his feet, Dean hit the bathroom. A long hot shower eased the kinks in his neck and loosened his muscles. A quick shave took care of the stubble dotting his face and the toothbrush took care of that something died in the mouth taste.

He rifled around in the bag someone had thoughtfully left inside the door. Finding clean clothes, Dean donned them quickly and then went in search of Sam.

His brother wasn't in the living room, or Bobby's library, or the kitchen. He knew he wouldn't find him in the basement…kid never went down there anymore. Too many bad memories.

He bumped into Bobby who was coming out of the basement. "Do you know where Sam is? I've been looking for him."

His friend mumbled something and brushed by him, refusing to make eye contact. Agitation burned in Dean's stomach. If Sam was up to his old tricks…

"Damn it, Bobby! Where is he? I know I was gone for more than a day, but still, Sam can't be trusted on his own. What if he…" Dean broke off his sentence furious with himself. Sam was leaning against the door jamb looking miserable.

His brother had a lightweight jacket on which told Dean he'd been outside; outside on his own was a bad idea in Dean's opinion. He hadn't meant to imply that Sam couldn't be trusted. Actually, he hadn't meant for Sam to hear him say that. The trust thing was still an issue due to the addiction thing. Addicts would say or do anything…Sam had proven that before.

Swallowing audibly, Dean tried to salvage the situation. "Listen, I'm sorry. I woke up and you were gone and…"

"It's okay, I get it," Sam said, slipping out of his jacket. He moved to the kitchen table, dropping into a chair. The jacket twisted between his hands as he worried the fabric. "There's something I need to tell you. Will you have a seat? Bobby, you might as well sit down, too."

The older man harrumphed but did as Sam asked, taking the seat at the head of the table.

Dean didn't like the way this was shaping up. Why did Sam look so serious and why wasn't he flipping out over Dean's implied accusation? Only one way to find out. He took the chair directly across from Sam and took a deep breath, fortifying himself for the talk. The muscles in his back and neck tightened and he rolled them, a wasted effort since there was no way he would relax until he knew what was going on.

"I had to go to town for an appointment and I'm sorry I didn't get to talk to you about it first. But you were strung out and exhausted and needed some rest." Sam set the jacket on his lap and put his hands on the table. As he began to speak again, his thumb picked at a hangnail on another finger. Dean didn't think his brother was even aware that his nervous ticks were showing. "The demon blood left a little damage behind, at least I think that's what did it. My kidneys aren't working at capacity so I've started dialysis. The doctor said it's too soon to call it kidney failure though."

Bobby snorted and Dean's attention shifted from the weary gaze of his brother to that of his friend. "What?"

The older man took off his baseball cap and ran a hand through his hair before depositing the cap back firmly on his head. "Only reason the doc hasn't called it kidney failure yet is because Sam's numbers haven't been bad enough for three months running. But his kidneys ain't working worth a damn."

It was a lot to take in and Dean was trying to process what was going on. Sam was in kidney failure? Did that mean he was going to…, "What does that mean, exactly? Dialysis. Kidney failure. You're gonna get better, right?"

His voice had risen and without realizing it, so had Dean. He now towered above the table, willing Sam to tell him this was just a joke. That he was fine. Payback for being gone so long or something. But Sam didn't say anything, could only stare at him, stricken.

Now that he was a little rested, Dean pinpointed some of the changes in his brother. Sam's skin didn't have that golden glow that he picked up whenever he was outside; instead his skin was darker, almost had a purple hue. Sam's face was puffy; it was more noticeable around the eyes. The way Sam's clothes hung on him and the hollows in his cheeks…in contrast it looked unnatural how full his face looked around the eyes and forehead.

Sam's hands were still tangled up on the table, picking at the hangnail and sure enough Dean could see even his hands were swollen. His brother suddenly gave a little yelp and leaned over, vigorously massaging his right calf. Bobby shot out a hand and steadied Sam's shoulder and his brother gave him a grateful look, wincing as he rubbed his leg.

Dean walked around the table and knelt next to his brother. He noted where Sam was kneading and brushed his hand aside, using both his own hands to massage the tight muscle. "Sam, come on, you gotta tell me…this kidney thing is just temporary, right?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see that Sam's shoulders were hunched and his head drooped low on his neck; his body language was screaming that he wasn't going to be okay.

His brother cleared his throat, dragging a hand through his too long hair. "The dialysis helps. Right now I go twice a week and it takes about three hours. It seems to do the trick." Sam reached down and stilled Dean's hands, tugged them upward until Dean looked him in the face. "The doctor said right now that's enough to keep me going. Look, I signed a form so you can talk to the doctor yourself."

Dean's knowledge of medicine was geared toward battlefield dressing and triage. He was familiar with the term dialysis and knew what kidney failure was but he needed to know more. He needed Sam to be okay.

Rising to his feet, he grabbed Sam by the biceps and pulled him out of his chair. His brother momentarily stiffened but when Dean drew him into a hug, he relaxed. "I knew I should've killed that bitch when we met her. She was bad news from the start."

At one time, Sam would have argued, maybe tried to defend his actions. This time he whispered a soft, "Yeah," and dropped his head on Dean's shoulder.

Bobby's chair scraped back and he made himself scarce. Dean was past the point of caring who saw him hug his brother.

Every time Dean thought they'd turned a corner, some nifty little surprise reared its ugly head. Kidney failure…there was no way something as mundane as that was going to get its hooks into his brother.

-0-

Dean was gone again, doing reconnaissance with Castiel, and Sam was lonely. Bobby was good company and had even taken to driving Sam to his treatments but he missed his older brother. His sense of humor and his childlike happiness over simple things like a good slice of pie and working on the Impala made him a joy to be around.

The only time Sam wanted to run for cover was when Dean lost his temper. The last time that had happened was right before he left and Sam was still sad that they'd parted on less than good terms.

When Sam's Glomerular Filtration Rate had nosed up again, Dean volunteered to donate a kidney. He'd even gone so far as to meet with Sam's doctor and do some preliminary tests.

A bittersweet feeling filled Sam when he found about Dean's plans – his brother wanted to help him and that meant so much but what the hell was Dean thinking? He was their only hope and he needed to be in top shape when the time arrived to take out Lucifer. Being laid up, minus a kidney, wasn't in anyone's best interest.

The fight had been epic with Dean accusing Sam of not wanting to live and Sam getting down and dirty, telling Dean he wasn't the boss of him and it was Sam's decision. It was the age old battle between Sam's selfishness and Dean wanting to micromanage every aspect of Sam's life.

Sam loved his brother so much for wanting to help him but saving the world was more important in the scheme of things. They'd learned that lesson at the knees of their dad.

Now that Sam continued to worsen and no extra demonic activity was popping up on the radar, he was reconsidering Dean's more than gracious offer. If he wanted to be around to support Dean then they might have to resort to drastic measures.

Sam could have dialysis every day despite the monotony of being hooked up to the machines and tubes for hours on end, and at the rate he was going that was a distinct possibility, but the treatments didn't seem to be working anymore. A donated kidney from a family member would most likely match what his body needed.

He'd even had a heart to heart with Bobby about maybe pursuing a kidney transplant. His friend had pretty much laid it on the line, told him off for being so stubborn, told him that Dean wasn't the only one who wanted him around.

When Dean got back, he'd talk to him.

-0-

Dean returned in a mood – after another fruitless search with Castiel he was wrung out and tired of playing at finding Lucifer. Despite all the doom and gloom predictions of Zachariah, nothing seemed any different than before the Morningstar had appeared.

Sure, demons still played around with humans and other supernatural creatures made themselves known but it was business as usual.

The other thing weighing on his mind was his brother. They'd said some pretty nasty things to each other before Dean had left and he didn't know how to make things better because he meant what he said. He knew Sam didn't take well to being ordered around and that's what their little discussion had degenerated into – Dean telling Sam what he had to do.

There had to be another tact. He just hadn't figured it out yet.

After a hand shake that turned into a hug, Dean asked after his brother, "Sam around? How's he doing?"

Bobby gave a half hearted shrug before answering, "He's not doing so great, has to go five times a week now. That's where he is right now. In fact, let me give him a call."

Much to his surprise, Bobby pulled out a sleek black cell phone and called up a number like an expert. Bobby, who hated new fangled technology. You only had to look around his house to figure out that the hunter was a bit old fashioned. He had a computer but it was big and clunky. His kitchen wall was full of landlines. That his brother had persuaded their friend to use a cell phone was really something.

Then again, Sam always was persuasive. Dean admitted his brother would have made an excellent lawyer.

Dean missed Bobby's conversation, lost in thought about his brother. "Why don't you get cleaned up," the older man said, crinkling his nose, "I'm gonna go get Sam."

Nodding in agreement, Dean walked toward the bathroom, plucking his shirt away from his body and giving it a sniff. He wasn't too ripe. Bobby interrupted him, "Oh, and Dean, I think Sam wants to talk to you about his health. Don't give him a hard time, okay? This isn't easy for him either."

How did Sam manage to do that? He had a way of getting people to watch out for him. Most people assumed Dean could and did take care of himself but there was just something about his brother…shaking it off, Dean headed to the shower.

By the time he had freshened up so as not to offend Bobby's delicate sensibilities, Sam and Bobby were pulling into the patch of mud in front of Bobby's porch. He watched in dismay as the older man made it to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door, helping his brother out. Even from the window, Dean could see Sam wasn't doing well.

Moving like an old man with arthritis, Sam walked slowly up the porch steps. Bobby had a hand on his elbow and Sam wasn't shaking him off. He could hear the older man was giving Sam what for. "Should've stayed there. Dean would have come to ya."

Dean could see the act of walking up the stairs left his brother breathless but despite it, a small smile graced his face. "I'm sorry. They said they'd call me and I wanted to see Dean here, away from that place."

Bobby rolled his eyes but under the good natured ribbing, he could see the older man was worried.

He moved from the window to open the door, unprepared for the sheer joy that lit up Sam's face. "Dean!"

His brother shuffled forward and launched himself into Dean's arms. Dean shouldn't have worried about his reception, it was obvious Sam wasn't holding a grudge.

Dean hugged his brother tight and rubbed his back before pulling away to study Sam's face. His hair had finally been cut although it was still too long for Dean's taste. Large blue-green eyes with that slight tilt stared back but up close Dean could see that the whites were not so much white but yellow. The puffiness was gone but that only meant that he could see how much weight his brother had lost, the skin pulled tight over too sharp cheekbones.

With a crooked smile, Sam punched him on the arm. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

He appreciated the humor but there was a forced breathy note to Sam's voice, like the air was getting pulled from somewhere distant. Dean wanted to get his brother off his feet before he passed out. "Funny. Seems to me I have a collection of pictures of you already – mouth open, catching flies. Like the one with the plastic spoon, I think I still have that somewhere. Come on, let's have a seat."

He hadn't been quick enough. Sam stumbled forward but Dean was ready, absorbing the extra weight into his arms. "Sorry…sorta dizzy…"

His brother was more than dizzy. Dean could hear him working to pull in air. Bracing an arm behind Sam's back, he caught him behind the knees with his other arm and swept him off his feet. Concern turned his voice sharp, "Why didn't they keep him at the hospital? What's wrong with him?"

Bobby's eyes were wide and worried but he could only shrug. "They wanted him to stay but you know your brother, he wanted to talk to you here."

The weight in his arms should have been staggering but it wasn't. Sam had dropped a lot of weight and holding him was no strain at all. Dean couldn't believe this was happening. "Sammy, what were you thinking? We need to get you some help."

His brother's head was nestled against Dean's shoulder but he could see his face, crinkled with upset. "Missed you…wanted…see you…sorry we…fought before…"

The words were stuttering and weak. But the worry moved to panic when Sam began to pant his breaths. His eyes closed to slivers, the yellow whites barely visible. And Sam's body was completely lax now. "Bobby, will you drive? The keys should be in my jacket pocket." With a look at Sam in his arms, "Come on, Sammy, don't give up now."

-0-

Sam was floating and it made him dizzy. Not floating, he was being carried.

The creak of metal and then he was sliding along slick vinyl.

"That's it, steady breaths. I've got you, Sammy."

He was sitting up but that didn't help him draw breath any easier. He was shifted back, his head resting more comfortably now. "I'm sorry about our fight. I know it's your body, it's just…it's hard seeing you like this. You have to get better, you hear me?"

Warm arms folded over him. Dean was holding him. Dean was sorry, too. He could relax now.

Calloused fingers rubbed his cheek. "Hurry, Bobby, he's so cold."

Sam wanted to tell Dean not to worry, that he was okay now. When he opened his mouth the only sound that emerged was a moan.

"It's okay, Sam, you're gonna be okay. Just stay with me, okay? Sammy, hey, stay with me!"

He tried to nod his head. He wanted to stay with Dean.

-0-

Dean didn't know what to do. There was nothing he could do.

Sam's heart and lungs were failing and the doctor wouldn't even consider a kidney transplant with his brother in this condition. Said Sam wouldn't make it.

There were no deals left to be made and although he'd summoned Castiel, the angel had remained absent. Apparently there was nothing to be done except wait.

Dean sucked at waiting.

He sat in the burgundy padded chair next to Sam's bed and watched the ventilator move up and down, listened to it whoosh as it forced air into his brother's lungs.

He remembered holding a dying Sam in his arms at Cold Oak and this feeling, watching Sam deteriorate, was every bit as bad.

A man pushed back the curtain and entered the room. He had dirty blond hair and eyes such a light blue that they seemed to cut right through everything.

He wasn't in scrubs or the white coat he associated with hospital personnel. Dean rose to his feet, sensing danger. "Sit down, Dean."

Pressure pushed him down despite his best efforts. "Relax, I will not hurt your brother. Nor will I harm you. That would displease him. I am simply here to heal him. The next time you see your angelic friends, why not ask them why they did not do this service for your brother…after all, he acted as they wished so they should recompense him for that, is that not right?"

The man's voice had a lilting rise to it which made Dean think of England or Ireland or somewhere like that. But no, this was no man. This was the reason their lives had been blown apart. Lucifer.

The creature moved his hands over Sam's body, up and down, parallel to him but not touching. The thought of this thing being so close to his vulnerable brother filled him with nausea.

"While I heal Samuel, I will give you a little riddle to distract you…if I am the Bringer of Light and Sam guided me back to earth, what does that make him?"

Dean pushed against the invisible bonds holding him to the chair. His muscles flexed and his blood pressure shot up but he remained immobilized. Bile threatened to choke him.

The creature straightened to his full height which easily rivaled Dean's. Still towering over Sam's still form, it smiled at Dean, humor making those light blue eyes twinkle. "I have restored your brother to perfection again. I do hope you will reconsider the company you keep. Samuel needs you more than the heavenly bodies do, at least for now." He turned his attention away from Dean and bent over, pressing lips to Sam's forehead like a mother would kiss a baby. "When you are ready I will come for you, my special child, and we will rule together."

Lucifer strode away from the bed with a lingering look. He paused before Dean, staring at him with such intensity that Dean would have flinched back but for the pressure holding him still. "As the sailors used the North Star to guide them across the ocean all those years ago, so your brother is my Polaris."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

This was supposed to be posted tomorrow but you have aXforamnesty to thank for the earlier post time…her enthusiasm is too contagious to ignore!

Chapter Four

They entered La Cocina around 4 PM. It was a bit earlier than Dean liked to eat dinner but in deference to Sam's new anti-social ways, he'd agreed to go as soon as the place opened. His brother said he'd rather have Sam's company then eat at a later hour.

Sam was grateful. The less people he was around, the better off he'd be. When Lucifer had 'healed' him in the hospital, he seemed to have left behind a little gift that Sam didn't care for – the ability to read people's minds. Not Dean's and Bobby's, at least not yet. Relative strangers. The nurses and doctors at the hospital, the girl at the video store, the clerks in town. Scary thoughts of gluttony, lust, greed, wrath, despair, envy and pride. Instead of the Seven Dwarfs, Sam was stuck with the Seven Deadly Sins. Again. And no magic knife was going to save him this time.

Brenda their waitress was split between lust and wrath. She liked the looks of Dean, thought it might be nice to take him home tonight and show him her moves, but Sam reminded her of her ex – someone she wanted to tie down and hold a lighter to various body parts to teach him a lesson.

Without his knowledge, Sam found himself sliding along the vinyl seat, seeking comfort. He stopped when he hit the solid wall that was his brother's side, grateful for the contact. Brenda's inner monologue about flames and body parts came to a halt and Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

Dean poked him in the side and he coughed up his drink order, 7-Up. The un-cola was caffeine free and Sam tried to adhere to the twelve step program. He couldn't embrace the whole higher being part, the faith that had sustained him throughout his youth had finally abandoned him, but many of the other steps made sense.

He just wished there was a twelve step program for hearing people's thoughts.

-0-

Dean had observed the way Sam pretty much shied away from most people who weren't either him or Bobby these days. Dean had noticed it in the hospital and since then it had only gotten worse. Sam only left Bobby's house when Dean made him, putting a little pressure on his brother be it guilt or cajoling.

So when Brenda of the dyed red hair brushed Sam's sleeve and his brother nearly jumped out of his skin, Dean took note. When Brenda leaned over to deliver their drinks, dark roots gleaming under the low lighting, Sam slid along the rounded booth seat until he collided with Dean's side. He was ready for it, hooking his arm around the back of the booth so that his hand could pat his brother's shoulder.

Brenda huffed off, her disappointment at thinking Dean's sexual orientation didn't mesh with hers all too apparent which made Dean chuckle. There was a time when people mistaking the brothers for lovers had really bothered him but not anymore. He didn't care what anyone thought of him except for Sam and Bobby.

But Sam's overreaction to Brenda's chichis threatening to overflow from her top was a bit of a concern and Dean intended to get to the bottom of it. Sam shot him an apologetic look before sliding millimeters away from his side. To cover the discomfort, his brother took a sip of his 7-Up. Sam had embraced much of the philosophy behind Alcoholics Anonymous, including not drinking caffeine. In a show of support, Dean had ordered ice tea instead of the Corona or Modelo Negra that he usually had in a Mexican restaurant.

Taking back his arm, he dumped sugar into his drink and stirred it around. Motioning to where the very buxom Brenda was standing with another waitress he asked, "So care to tell me what all that was about?"

Embarrassment turned Sam's cheeks pink and he dipped his head. "I, uh, was going to tell you later but I guess no time like the present. Sometimes I can read people's minds. And it's usually not very pretty." The last two sentences flew out of Sam's mouth so fast, Dean thought maybe he'd misheard him.

Glass halfway to his mouth, Dean set it down with more authority than he'd intended. "Come again?"

Sam's attention was firmly fixed on the straw wrapping he was tying in knots. The lies and the subterfuge…Dean thought they'd gotten past all that.

Eyes downcast, Sam set aside the wrapping and resorted to pushing his straw around his drink. "It started happening at the hospital and I thought maybe it had to do with…whatever _he_ had done to fix me. But it hasn't faded away. I don't want to know what people are thinking but I haven't figured out how to make it stop."

Dean could deal with this. This wasn't so bad. Not like drinking demon blood or sending demons back to hell with the power of his mind. But if Sam could read his thoughts…shit. "What about Bobby and me? Can you hear what we're thinking?"

That question caused Sam's eyes to flash at Dean with worry, his teeth worrying at his lower lip. "No, God no. You have to believe me. I would never…"

But if his brother had no power over this new trick then who knew what would happen? Sam looked sick, his face pale and glistening with sweat.

Nudging Sam with his elbow, Dean tried to make light of this new development. "Maybe we can take a little trip to Vegas, see if this new skill pays off." At the stricken look on his brother's face, Dean back pedaled. "Sorry, bad joke. It's no big deal. As long as these people don't harm you, it's fine."

When Sam didn't say anything to reassure him about the harm thing, Dean's worry-meter went up a notch. "Sam, they can't hurt you, right?"

Actually Sam didn't look worried at the moment. His face had that lax dreamy look and his eyes stared into space, vague and cloudy. Dean knew that look – Sam was communicating with a certain someone.

Sam had picked up another neat little habit since the thing at the hospital with Lucifer. He'd rub that spot on his forehead, the same spot the blue-eyed freak had kissed, and he'd disappear into another dimension. His face and body would relax and he'd just kind of be somewhere other than the here and now.

It had taken his brother a longer time to figure it out, but Sam had been a bit freaked when he'd realized the creature that had cured him of his kidney problem could also speak directly to him in his mind. Dean had been more than a little freaked but there didn't seem anything they could do about it and he was just so happy to have his brother healthy again, he could deal with this little yip. As long as Lucifer didn't cause Sam any other problems that is.

Snapping his fingers in front of his brother's face, Dean rapped out his brother's name.

Sam jolted in his seat but his gaze swung back to Dean's, guilt and apology apparent in the wry twist of his lips and the way his eyebrows pulled together.

Brenda chose that moment to come forward for their orders and Dean ended up doing the manly thing, ordering for both of them; Sam wouldn't lift his head up to look at their waitress and he'd gone mute.

"Sam, listen, we can leave if you want…" Dean couldn't even get the words out of his mouth before Sam was jerking nervously.

Eyes wide and beseeching, Sam pleaded his case, "No, please, you deserve a night out. This is your night to celebrate and Bobby deserves a break from us, too. I promise to get my act together and we'll have a good time."

It was like looking at a five-year-old Sam, one promising to behave and using his big eyes to win over Dean.

Despite knowing Sam would just push his chiles rellenos around his plate and redistribute his rice and beans from one side to the other, Dean caved in. They were here and the food was ordered and nothing sounded tastier than his shredded beef enchiladas with red sauce. And Dean kind of had earned it. He had started refinishing classic cars and then selling them for a tidy profit. Today he'd sold his first project – a 1968 Camaro RS SS Coupe with a 383 small block engine. Its only flaw was its color – a light sky blue that had reminded Dean of Lucifer's eyes – but it had lined his pocket with cash and he was eager to find another car to work on.

Dean could make enough small talk to last throughout the meal. While he spoke of an air conditioning kit he'd found on Impala Bob's, he watched Sam's glaze over with boredom. But at least Sam had lost that freaked out panicky look.

He just wished he knew how to keep Sam away from Lucifer's grasp and what to do with his newest reveal. Life with Sam was never dull, that was for sure.

-0-

They were on their way back to Bobby's, dinner a surprising success despite its rocky start. Once Sam had relaxed and avoided all contact with Brenda, he'd been able to enjoy himself. He'd always gotten a kick out of spending time with Dean when it wasn't related to the hunt and tonight had been no exception.

A tingling in his forehead broke through his thoughts but he ground the heel of his hand into the throbbing area, forcing back the contact. Talking to Lucifer freaked Dean out and Sam had to admit he felt much the same.

Why was Sam worth the effort anyway? He'd served his purpose, broken the last seal and paved the way for Lucifer's welcome back party. Why?

_Because you are my child, a very special child. Together we are stronger._

He clunked his head against the passenger window, trying to drown out the words. When Dean swerved, a mild curse word on his lips, Sam turned his attention to his brother.

Dean cleared his throat, shaking his head. "I really wish you wouldn't do that when I'm driving. The whole pounding your head against the glass thing is a real attention getter. So what does he want this time?" The words were mild but Sam could hear the concerned edge in his brother's voice.

So much for hiding his little talks from Dean. Not that he wanted to, he just didn't think his brother needed the stress. Dean's whole life had been turned upside down while he tried to stop the apocalypse and take care of his brother, both things that were the fault of said little brother.

But Dean had asked about Lucifer and although he didn't want to spring the whole "special child" and "together we're stronger" thing, he did want to run something by his brother. "Do you think _he _can hear people's thoughts and that's why he's so disgusted with the human race?"

Sunlight streaked across the western sky, highlighting Dean's stoic profile, bathing it in a bright light. His brother pursed his lips together in thought, no snarky comeback on the horizon. "I'm not sure, Sammy, and I'm not so concerned with all of the human race at the moment. You're my main concern."

Sam could have attributed the warmth cascading through his chest to the bright afternoon sunshine pouring into the Impala but he knew that wasn't it; Dean's words had warmed him.

No longer feeling like a duty or curse, Sam felt like Dean's little brother for the first time since their dad had whispered Azazel's plans for him into Dean's ear.

-0-

Dean returned from the video store with his prize in hand – the DVD of "Slap Shot". They'd seen it so many times they could both quote lines from the movie but somehow Bobby had escaped viewing it so Sam and Dean planned to remedy it.

Running to the video store had also given him a chance to think about things. Like his brother. And Lucifer. And why there was nothing happening on the apocalypse front. And how the angels had used his brother as bait…Castiel could have healed Sam at any time but the plan had been to draw Lucifer in. The only flaw with the plan was that no one put Sam in harm's way. Dean and Castiel had parted ways, much to Dean's relief. He could spend more time with his brother now. And he needed to do that now more than ever.

It was an epiphany a long time in the making but now that it had arrived there was no ducking around it – Lucifer had lost interest in his war on humanity and had instead turned his attentions toward his _special child_.

Dean had heard Lucifer's intent, loud and clear, at the hospital but he'd been so freaked out what with Sam in acute kidney failure with his heart and lungs right behind…it hadn't been a good time for thinking.

"When you are ready I will come for you, my special child, and we will rule together." Lucifer had also said he wouldn't hurt Sam, or Dean for that matter, which left swaying him to his point of view. And the freaky mind power and talking to Sam were just the start.

Zachariah had said Dean would defeat Lucifer; if Sam was the new battlefield, then that finally made sense. And for once the odds were stacked in the Winchesters' favor.

Picking his way through the abandoned hunks of metal, Dean found his brother where he thought he would – leaning up against the great oak tree. His long legs were sprawled before him, his barefeet peeking out of the ragged hem of his jeans. One hand held a book next to his body, the other was resting across his stomach. His face lifted up to catch the rays of the sun and Dean could hear music softly seeping from his brother's iPod. One of the earbuds dangled on Sam's shoulder and Dean made a note to pick up a new one for his brother. He didn't know anything about them but he figured he could learn.

The melody was haunting and the feminine voice pure…Dean was surprised because both brothers favored male singers. In fact despite teasing Sam about his emo choice in music, this song was so far from what he was used to Sam listening to that he found himself leaning over to hear more of it.

He must have blocked Sam's sun because his brother's eyes blinked open. The frown of the abrupt awakening melted into a smile of greeting and Dean noted with satisfaction the healthy glow of his sibling's face, stress lines marring the young man's skin a thing of the past. Sam might not be happy – it was hard to tell because Dean still had to work hard to get Sam to share his thoughts – but his brother seemed content. At peace.

The song drew him in again, percussion kicking up the volume as the singer's strong voice rose above it.

"It's called 'Here with Me' by Dido…Jess loved that song." At the mention of Jess, Sam actually smiled instead of giving off his usually depressed air when his dead girlfriend's name came up.

Sam's eyes slid over Dean's shoulder, unfocused, and Dean knew he was hearing another voice. Lucifer was talking to his brother. Crap.

His heartbeat galloped in his ears – what if Lucifer was promising that Sam could reunite with Jessica? That was a feat Dean couldn't match.

Stepping to the side, so he now stood in Sam's direct gaze, Dean offered his hand to Sam. "Come on, let's go find Bobby and plug in the movie."

Dean waited for Sam's eyes to refocus again, the dreamy expression sliding off his face. It was still disconcerting but Dean knew if he made a big deal out of it, Sam would clam up. And the last thing Dean wanted to do was push Sam toward the opponent.

Turning off the music, Sam leaned forward and grabbed Dean's hand, letting himself be pulled to his feet. Instead of letting his brother find his balance, Dean wrapped his arm around Sam's waist and tugged him along. He liked the contact, of having Sam near. And the more Sam depended on him, the harder it would be for his brother to leave him. To choose Lucifer over him.

Dean carefully guided Sam through the salvage yard, cognizant of the fact that Sam wasn't wearing shoes. He made a mental note to pick up some flip-flops. If Sam wanted to run around without shoes, that was one thing but Dean didn't want him stepping on a nail or piece of metal and getting hurt.

They passed the chain in the ground where Bobby's dog would normally be kept while outside. It had been a long time since Rumsfeld had disappeared and the older hunter still hadn't gotten a replacement.

Sam had always liked dogs. As a child, he would have settled for any pet, even a goldfish, but their dad had pointed out that they couldn't drag a fish around the country and that had been that. No pets. But there was no reason why Sam couldn't have a dog now. That was something he could give his brother.

"So Bobby's been talking about getting another dog," Dean said as he tugged Sam up the front steps. Bobby had said no such thing but Dean knew he would play along – their friend would do anything to keep Sam safe, see him happy. And the older man thought fast on his feet and would play along. "You think maybe a dog like the one in Slap Shot…what's her name? The one Braden sleeps with before games?"

Dimples lit up Sam's face, health and vitality glowing from the sunshine and excitement. "I think maybe a dog from the shelter. One that could really use a good home." His brother's tone was wistful but the undercurrent of happiness was unmistakable.

It bugged Dean that Sam identified with the strays of the world. Like he was the last kid on the playground picked for kickball, unwanted and invisible.

Sam was anything but. The creatures above and below the earth's surface were jockeying for his favor, intent on recruiting him to their respective side.

Cupping the back of Sam's neck, Dean gave it a quick squeeze. He didn't have a problem spoiling his brother. After all of the crap that had been done to him – losing his mother, girlfriend, father, future – he deserved the good life. He'd made mistakes along the way but didn't everyone?

And as much as Dean thought spoiling Sam would swing things in his favor, he had an ace up his sleeve.

Sam was his brother and would do anything for him. He had already done anything for him, including changing himself into something else so that he could kill Lilith. Dean had once told his brother that he had no idea the lengths he would go to, the things he would do, to keep Sam and their dad safe. He hadn't realized the street went both ways.

Dean wasn't worried about Lucifer stealing his brother's affections. Sam was right where he wanted to be and Dean would do everything in his power to see that didn't change.

It wouldn't be easy, Lucifer was a wily old fox of a fallen angel with years of experience on his side. But now – having watched Sam endure the stress of detox and face major illness with such grace while supporting Dean's quest – he thought he knew what made his brother tick once again.

Sam was no monster. Just a man, a man who tried too hard and lost everything. Except Dean. And Dean had finally gotten what he'd always wanted…his little brother back.

This was one fight Dean couldn't lose.

A/N: So that's it! This is my Pay It Forward story for the wonderful and talented (and creative and patient and witty, etc.) Faye Dartmouth. I'm pretty sure there were one or two things from her wishlist that made it into the story. And she so deserves it!

A huge thank you to my beta's -- Bayre and Gidgetgal9. They are so wonderful to have around!

And speaking of Gidget, I'd like to quickly mention that Floralia and I have co-written a story, To Vent One's Spleen, in honor of Gidgetgal's birthday which is today (happy birthday girlfriend!). You can find the story under Floralia's account and she's under my profile as a fave author.

Thank you for reading!


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